


The Bench

by TheLadyFrost



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Angst, Child Death, Confessions, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Drama & Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Pre-Resident Evil 6
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:15:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27138541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyFrost/pseuds/TheLadyFrost
Summary: She'd lost everything. She'd come back a shadow. She had nothing left to lose. Sometimes saving yourself is as simple as sitting down. He just might have the answers she's been searching for since the moment she died.
Relationships: Leon S. Kennedy/Jill Valentine
Comments: 9
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

**The Bench**

* * *

_**"Here's the truth...he was never going to let me go. I wish I'd died the day I'd gone through that window...because I've been dead every day since."** _

* * *

**St. Louis, Missouri**

* * *

Jill huddled on the floor with her face in her hands. She let the tears come, sharp and swift. They squeezed between her fingers to drip wetly onto her knees. If she could get into a human ball and absorb herself, she'd have done it by now. She'd never felt more alone.

She was free. She was back. She was returned to a life where she was "safe." She was terrified of what happened when she left this room. They'd "treated" her, they'd listened, they'd pronounced her "adequately dealing with her psychosis" and released her to her own recognizance. They didn't _hear_ a word she said.

Chris was pulling strings somewhere, he had to be, for her to still be free. He'd greased palms and kept her from the electric chair. Hell, after what she'd done, she was as good as a terrorist on domestic soil. The only reason she wasn't rotting in prison or at the bottom of a hole somewhere had to be him arguing on her behalf.

He didn't understand that part of her _wanted_ to be in prison. Part of her knew she deserved it. She was a murderer. She was a killer. She'd stood above dignitaries and innocent people in Wesker's way and slaughtered them in cold blood. His right hand, his avenging weapon he'd selectively sent her to dispose of those who would prevent his "ascension." Deluded in his final days, he'd been relentless in his pursuit of pure power.

On the chopper, as they'd left his memory in lava and regret, Chris had simply asked her, "...what happened?"

What happened? Like it was that simple. Like it was a single set of words that would free her from the truth. But it had never been a question of what...it was a question of _who._ Who she'd killed. Who she'd become. Who she was now.

She was still Jill Valentine, but she wasn't. She died that day. What had come back from Wesker's control was a ghost. If she closed her eyes, she could still see the faces of those she'd felled at his behest. They often cried, they often begged, they all died in pools of blood.

Wesker was careful. He was wise. He'd sent her only when he knew she'd stay beyond the reach of anyone who might know her. He had her dispose of those who offered resistance to his great scheme. The first - an investor who'd backed out when he'd discovered the truth of Uroboros had begged and shown her pictures of his children. One was blonde, one was a redhead - two pretty little girls with his eyes. They'd be alone if he left them. His wife had died of cancer the year before. He'd thought Wesker was working on a cure for cancer. He didn't know, couldn't have known what horrors he'd helped fund. She'd spoken mechanically, the mask obscuring her voice, "...Wesker sends his regards."

She'd stabbed him in the stomach and watched him recoil. He'd stumbled into a desk and slid to the ground, cupping himself. He'd lifted his gaze to her in horror and pleaded, "...call for help...please? Call for help."

She'd stood over him instead and watched him die. You never forgot the moment the light left the eyes of a man. They fixed above his tear-stained cheeks and the breath had left his body. He'd jerked twice, body resisting even at the end, and gurgled wetly before he went still.

Inside the shell of herself, she'd been screaming. She'd wept wildly when the P30 had worn off that evening. She'd huddled then as she did now against the horror of it. She'd orphaned two children that day. She'd orphaned a piece of her soul as well.

What happened? She'd lived in solitude like a slave for so long she'd forgotten who she was. She'd tried, at first, to push him off. She'd say she didn't remember. She'd tell him to leave her be. He'd stared at her like she was speaking another language.

He kept saying she'd be fine. He meant it. For Chris, a battle inside your body was as easily handled as punching a boulder. He was a big hero, after all, he'd rescued her. He'd brought her back. He'd liberated her from confinement.

He'd bring pictures. He'd ask questions. Did she meet this man? Did she know who Wesker was dealing with on the side? Did she have intel on where and who was still waiting for them to take down? She'd shake her head and retreat to her room. She just wanted to be left alone. She didn't want to see them and remember. Half of them were dead, at her own hand. She didn't have the heart to tell him.

He'd blocked her from rejoining the BSAA. He'd insisted she take some time to ease back into life. He'd set her up as a liaison for relations. She was to sit in board meetings and make nice with money men looking to invest in the future of Bioterror Defense.

Every night she went to sleep and dreamed of death and blood. Every night she thought about the roof of whatever hotel she was staying in and considered leaping to her own death. Who would care if she died? Who would notice? She'd been gone so long. She had no one. No friends, no family, no one waiting at home for her return. Chris had brought her back to solitude and a new kind of torture. Her mind simply wouldn't relent.

She'd been aware of every move her body had made. She had no control. The last of the P30 had died with Wesker, so proving it's control was impossible. It was her word against a dead man's. The truth of what she'd done had died with Albert Wesker. If they could tie her to all the murders, not even Chris' golden reputation could save her.

She'd been free for three months now. Three long months of her own company and her own misery. She'd done her job, robotically, serving the BSAA with a mindless series of motions motivated by a simple need to exist. She felt nothing.

She was dead inside.

No. She _wished_ she was dead inside. The only thing in her was pain. It ate around her heart like a vampire, trying to drain her dry and leave a hollowed out shell behind. She was one anyway. She'd been one for years. She'd wept inside her body while it went on without her, mindlessly murdering while she'd died a piece at a time.

She stared at her face in the window across from her. Blonde. Pale. Pointless. Even her face wasn't her own anymore. The first time she'd passed a mirror after waking up in Wesker's control, she'd screamed inside her own head. She looked like a barbie doll; she killed like a machine. Even her face he'd stolen from her.

She fingered the knife on the floor beside her. She could slit her wrists and end it. It would be over so quickly. She'd die in a pool of her blood like all those she'd left behind. Fast. Fearless.

_Only a coward chooses death, Jill. A weapon has no choice. A weapon kills. You are a weapon._

He'd stopped her from ending it all once. He'd knocked the blade from her hands and bound her right wrist. He'd kept her entirely under the influence of the P30 after that day. He made sure she knew where her place in the world was - at his side, in his control...forever.

_You are mine._

He was dead. She was safe. She saw his face in the glass beside her own. He haunted her.

She pushed the knife away with a grunt of anger. She was no coward. She wouldn't die like one.

She was already dead anyway.

She rose from the floor and put on the suit hanging on the back of the door. She went to the meeting. Faces watched her blandly as she offered all the details for the future of the war she'd died fighting. She kept darting her gaze to a curious set of blue eyes at the big round table. He rolled a paperweight in one hand and considered her quietly. HE didn't ask questions like the others, he just listened.

Familiar somehow. She kept trying to place him. She left the meeting with commitments from six different sources of funding. It was a success. It was a good day.

She went straight to the roof and felt the cold air on her face. The dark closed around her. The city twinkled prettily around her. New York in Autumn. A pretty time of year.

Her toes touched the edge of the roof and a voice inquired, "A long fall...where's your parachute?"

Jill froze. She whipped her head to the side. Handsome, she thought objectively, in a gray peacoat and white scarf. His hair tickled his face in the breeze. He'd been handsome in that boardroom too. Not that she cared. Handsome men were a dime a dozen.

She gave him a look cooler than the air around them, "I left it in my other suit."

His mouth twitched, "So...this goes one of two ways. You try to jump and I tackle you, ruining both our nights. Or? You step back and maybe we just stand here in the cool air and share a cigarette."

She hesitated. Had she really been planning to jump? She glanced down at the steep fall to her own release. Maybe she was a coward after all. A sobering thought to know she might have done it.

Jill stepped back from the edge of the roof and turned toward him. He offered her the lit cigarette he'd been smoking. She took it and inhaled sharply, wincing at the acrid smoke in her lungs.

Quietly, she told him, "...whatever you think you saw..." She trailed off.

He finished, "Just a woman on a roof enjoying a quiet fall night."

With relief, Jill studied him and finally queried, "...Kennedy?"

There it was. That's why her memory was trying to kick something up at her. Leon S. Kennedy - the president's golden boy. The other survivor with Claire from Raccoon City who'd made a name for himself in the right circles. Apparently, he was there on behalf of USSTRATCOM. They hadn't officially met, that she could remember now, but she'd seen his file.

Hell, everyone had seen his file.

He was better looking than the pictures.

Kennedy nodded slightly. "So they tell me. You'd be Jill Valentine. A mystery we've never met before now, isn't it? Knowing how small the circle of survivors of Raccoon are."

She shrugged a shoulder. "Does it matter? Here we are."

She stared off into the distance for a long moment. He finally surprised her by speaking again, "I jumped after Raccoon."

Her gaze flicked back to his face. He gave her a muted smile, "Yep. Newly minted as an agent. Supposed to be on top of the world. Just back from my first mission...which was a success...and was a total fucking mess from start to finish."

She shifted where she stood and he continued, "I took down the target...but I cried so hard afterward I thought I'd never get over it."

The look she gave him was so bald that he actually smirked a little, "Yeah. Even tough guys break down, I guess. So there I was...a baby in a big bad business. I knew they had me tethered and there was no getting out for me. I figured...I can't do this, ya know? I can't kill people like that. Not even for the good of the nation."

Jill licked her cold lips and nodded a little. Encouraged, he finished, "So...I found myself on the roof of my hotel. I thought...maybe this is how I go out. My rules. My choice. My last fuck you to the powers that be."

After a moment, she whispered, "...what stopped you?"

He gave her a sad smile, "Sherry."

Jill tilted her head and he went on, "I protected Sherry by agreeing to get into this business. I meant it. Who would protect other girls like her if I leaped off that roof? What if, right in that moment, there was a kid out there that no one but I could save?"

He lit another cigarette and the smoke haloed around his face in the dark, "So I stepped back. I lost the right to off myself the second I agreed to protect kids like that."

Jill pursed her lips as her eyes teared up a little, "...kids?"

He blew out a hard breath, "Kids. They're the future, right?"

Jill shifted away to watch the moon, "I don't like kids."

He snorted a little, "Sure you do. Everybody likes kids. Although liking them is irrelevant. They're helpless. They need heroes. Like it or not...we're kinda all they've got."

He was. Sure. He was a hero. She wasn't. She was a traitor. She was a terrorist. She was a murderer. She didn't deserve to rescue kids.

She turned and started back toward the door off the roof. He called after her, "If you're ever curious why...there's a bench at the corner of 6th and Washington. Every answer you need is right there."

Jill kept walking with her brow furrowed. He was an odd duck. There was no getting around that. Why did he care what happened to some woman he'd never met? Why was he up on that roof in the dark like that?

What made him think she cared about the reasons behind what he did?

And yet...somehow...she found herself sitting on that bench the next afternoon. It was simple and wood and across the street from an old building. The fenced in yard was empty at noon on a Thursday, but the breeze was nice so she just kept sitting there.

After a while, the seat next to her was claimed by a familiar face.

She said nothing. He said nothing. A bell tolled on the old building and made her aware it was a church. The doors opened and the courtyard was suddenly full of running and laughing children.

She jerked where she sat. He nodded and mused, "Yeah. It's recess."

Kids.

An orphanage full of them.

Jill watched them run and jump and play ball. She felt her eyes tear up. He leaned back on the bench and told her, "It's easy to forget what I'm doing sometimes. I get wrapped up in the action and the money and the fame. Had my head up my ass for a long time there."

Jill, finally, murmured, "So, why come here?"

"...my Mom worked in a state home when I was growing up. She liked to say being around all those kids reminded her that life is full of surprises. Hell, she even brought one home with her once."

Jill glanced at him and he nodded, "Yep. Adopted. Though I never felt like I was."

She sighed heavily, "So why not just adopt a few?"

He twisted his lips a little, "I couldn't give them any kind of life. Not with what I do. I could retire I guess, but I made a promise to a little girl in a dying city once...I keep my promises."

"...and what did you promise your Mom?"

He blew out a hard breath, "That any time I was starting to doubt who I was, I'd find a bench and remind myself."

They sat in silence for a while until Jill inquired, "...what happened to your Mom?"

Leon shifted on the bench, "She died after Raccoon City. I wasn't there. I wasn't able to see her or tell her I was alive."

Jill gave him a sad look, "I'm sorry...she was sick?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. She could tell he was uncomfortable, but to her surprise, he answered, "She swallowed a bottle of pills."

Suicide.

That explained his wanting to stop her on that roof. He'd lost his mother to it. Jill felt a twinge of guilt and told him, "I'm sorry."

Leon nodded lightly, "Yeah. After my Dad was gunned down growing up, she never really came back as she'd been."

Jesus. Jill turned her entire attention to him. "...your Dad was...?"

"A cop." He laughed once with ire, "Irony, right? He died in the line of duty. Drug bust gone bad. I took up the shield to follow in his footsteps...served one whole day on the force and ended up in this mess."

After a long quiet moment, Jill wondered, "No other family?"

He shook his head, "Just me. No brothers or sisters. No wife or rugrats. Just me...and this bench."

So to honor his father, he'd become a protector. To honor his mother, he'd held onto the innocence that came with watching children play. Moved a little by him, Jill sighed, "...I lost my brother in the Gulf War."

Leon tilted his head, "...rough. Army?"

She nodded, "His convoy was delayed and under fire. He took a stray bullet to the femoral artery and bled out in the field."

Leon studied her profile, "Sucks."

"Yeah...sucks." She blew out a breath, "My Mom died of cancer about two years before that. I never knew my father...so there's my whole sad story."

He leaned back on the bench, "Pretty short story."

"Not much to tell. I left the military after Mark died and joined S.T.A.R.S...any file out there has the rest."

Leon pursed his lips. There was more to that story, but there was plenty of time to tell it. Today? It was about this bench. It was the first time he'd ever shared it with anyone. What had possessed him to invite her?

He'd seen his mother on that roof?

Maybe it was that simple. Maybe it was just his pathological need to save someone. Maybe he was just that lonely. He considered that. Was he lonely? Of course, he was. He'd been busy busting asses and saving lives. He'd lost so much he was still trying to piece together what was left.

Maybe it was as simple as two lost souls looking for a place to sit and just exist.

He glanced at the kids playing. It was Dodgeball day. They slung those balls and laughed and lived. A note of envy hung in the air around him as he told her, "Tomorrow is freeze tag."

She glanced at him. "Oh?"

"Yeah...tomorrow the little kids getting their asses lit up out there have a real chance of outrunning the bigger ones. An even playing field."

Jill felt her lips twitch, "A chance for redemption?"

"...we all deserve one."

Did they?

She didn't.

But she also didn't have anything to do tomorrow.

So? Maybe she'd find her way back to the bench and witness someone else's. She figured at this point...what did she have to lose?


	2. Chapter 2

**The Bench**

* * *

_**"His eyes were blue..I'll never forget it..like watching the ocean cry..I don't know if I'll ever be able to stand beside one again without seeing his face before he died."** _

* * *

**Outside St. Agatha's Home for Lost Souls**

* * *

On Friday, Jill found herself once more on a bench watching children play. The game of freeze tag was taken seriously by the participants. One little girl was clever enough to utilize hiding until she could leap free and tag her oppressors.

Amused, Jill tilted her head as she watched them run. She knew something about running. She'd been doing it from herself for so long that it had become second nature. If she stopped, what would become of her?

She closed her eyes for a moment as she remembered trying to run in the compound. The walls were steel and sterile. The floor cold beneath her bare feet. She'd awoken and killed the guard who'd attempted to hold her down. She had tubes trailing from her arms and her collarbone. She had one dangling from the back of her head. She likely resembled an octopus in human form as hurried.

The taser in her hand was brandished carefully as she circled a corner and came face to face with two men with guns. They seemed startled to see her. She kicked the first one in the crotch and elbowed the second in the face. The first pulled his gun and she spun a back kick at his stomach to send him sputtering to his knees. She was reaching for the gun when a voice brought her up in a swirling surge of rage.

"I see you've survived."

She spun with the gun on him. His stupid blonde hair and his awful sunglasses. Did he think she'd cower? Did he think she'd run? She spat, "I guess we're both invincible."

Wesker arched a clever brow over those glasses at the sight of the gun on him, "Do you think to take me down? You failed and died once. Shall we see how many lives you can waste trying?"

She fired and he simply moved like a flash too fast for the eye to follow. He was there before the bullet zinged down the hallway and struck the metal wall to ping off in a deadly ricochet. His hand curled at her throat as he simply jerked the gun from her grip and tossed it uselessly down the hallway. He lifted her and kept her dangling, tilting his head at her like one might a curious dog. "Silly girl, submit and spare yourself the pain."

She spit in his face as an answer.

He threw her away while it dribbled down his glasses like a final act of defiance. She flew, she fell, she landed with a sound like a crunch that told her something was broken. He dragged her down the hallway and tossed her into the tank that waited while she screamed.

As she went in, she heard him instruct the scientist there, "When she awakens, secure the device on her."

Jill's hand shifted to lay over the scars on her chest where she sat on the bench. She'd awoken next; his weapon. She'd tried to rip the damn thing off herself when she'd risen. To her surprise, the scientist had warned her, "Without disabling the device, removal would shatter your clavicle and your sternum. Please don't."

She could still remember the first moment the P30 struck her system. She'd stiffened, her eyes had glazed, and her body had bowed in defeat. She'd stood like a sentinel at his side in that stupid suit he'd instructed her to put on. He'd patted her head like a dog as she'd passed him.

The rage had met the humiliation and hurt inside of her. But it would get worse before it ever got better. He'd released her from his side to beat the shit out of the man who'd come to meet with him. He'd refused to cooperate with the facility anymore. He wasn't going to contribute to the "madness they were making". Wesker had simply told her, "Convince him. Make him bleed."

She'd listened. Her body moving on its own like a puppet on strings. "Punch him in the face." She'd done it. "Again." She'd done that too.

There was no stopping it.

She'd floated in her own head like a memory.

She dug her fingers lightly into the scars on her chest now as she watched the children tag each other and laugh. She'd tagged a man too not long ago. He'd fought as he went down, demanding she release him. She'd broken his arm at the elbow instead. He'd tried to call and she'd stabbed him in the back. Her voice had intoned, like speaking through a tin can, "...a backstabber deserves no less."

He'd tried to flee the compound and report on his findings to the BSAA. She knew it. She'd heard them talking before Wesker had released her from her prison and sent her to finish the man off.

She'd put her boot to the man's back and held him down while he bled. He'd kicked twice, body spasming, and then gone still with paralysis. She'd stabbed him near the cervical spine and made sure he'd never get those legs back even if he lived.

He was still crying and bleeding when Wesker had called her back like a dog, whistling.

Jill watched one of the children sling another to the ground by the arm. They both laughed and rolled in the grass with a playful struggle. Her mind saw the struggle as more and she started to rise to call out a warning to the nuns standing by when Leon took the seat beside her.

She whispered, "...they're hurting each other."

Surprised, he turned his gaze and remarked, "They're laughing, Jill. See? Just playing."

Right.

She rubbed at her throat a little, "...don't you have a job?"

Amused, he leaned back on the bench, "I do. Though I don't today it seems. Don't you?"

She cleared her throat and shrugged, "I'm off today."

He nodded sagely, "Me too, apparently."

They watched the children for awhile before she invited, "You gonna say anything?"

He felt a tickle of amusement again and enjoyed it. She probably thought she was being rude and was attempting to get rid of him, but he found her lack of social graces refreshing. She'd come back. If she didn't want to see him again, she wouldn't have come back. He wondered if she knew that.

So, he shrugged, "Why not? Want to hear about the first time I killed a man?"

Jill turned her gaze toward him, "...why would I want to hear about that?"

"Just making conversation. You'd rather hear about something else?"

Jill shifted on the bench, feeling ornery, "Tell me about what an asshole you were."

His brows winged up. He watched one of the smaller kids outsmart a bigger one and rush under the slide to escape. Mouth twitching, he told her, "I was a total dickbag. You know the type.." He lit a cigarette, "Arrogant. Self serving. I'd just gotten back from Spain and I was the best in the business."

Jill rolled her eyes, "You got lucky."

With a snort, he agreed, "I did. I had the skills, but it was luck that kept my ass alive. Of course, it was a little bit about being awesome too."

She snorted.

Inhaling, he explained, "I thought I was something else. I'd turned down Ashley Graham, even though she'd pretty much jumped on my lap and offered to give me a blow job worthy of a Presidential nomination."

Jill gave him a cold look. He winked at her and shrugged, "I'm an asshole, but I'm not a _fucking_ asshole."

She rolled her eyes again and he continued, "I was high on victory, stupid and young. Ada popped into my hotel room -"

"After you handed her the virus."

Surprised, he glanced at her and corrected, "She took it, at gunpoint."

"Yeah, I read the report. You killed a thousand fucking ganados single handedly and one skinny ass spy gets the drop on you?" Jill shook her head, "You came here to be honest...so be honest."

Impressed by the fact she was actually talking to him, he decided to give her the truth. "You're right, I gave it to her." So it was the first time he'd told another living soul what had happened on that platform that day, "I thought she'd be able to do more with it without being bound by the government and honestly? I was arrogant. I thought it was a good way to cultivate an informant. I knew she'd come in handy later."

Jill gave him a droll look, "I bet she did. She pop up and get handy later?"

Leon licked his lips, "Yep. I got the drop on her too that night."

Jill scoffed, "You admitting you fucked a spy?"

He shifted on the bench, "I am. Truth, right? I fucked her. I convinced myself I was getting what I deserved. I wanted her, so I got her."

Jill shook her head, but said nothing as he went on, "She used me." Jill glanced at him in surprise and he nodded, "Oh, yeah. I know she used me. Then and again at the hotel. She played me like a fiddle and I let her. Hell, I convinced myself I knew what I was doing. I was in control. I had it covered."

He blew out a breath, "I woke up the next morning missing my phone and the file I'd been compiling with all the notes I'd gathered from the very dead Luis Sera."

Jill gave him a long look and he sighed, "Yep. I lost everything - the sample, the upperhand, the notes...my dignity. I had nothing on the plagas now but my own accounts. Sera had carefully documented his experiences and the progression of mutation as well as his own formulation of the suppression drug. I had nothing to turn over to my handlers. I'd fucked her...and she'd fucked me right back."

He pushed a hand through his hair and went on, "With little choice, I went home with my tail between my legs...turns out I was hero. No one knew I'd lost everything. They hailed me a conquering king and I played right into it. Started flirting with anything in a skirt because I knew I was hot shit. I fucked girls to give myself a reputation. I banked wads of money and took missions that made me a bigger star...and then I ran into Claire."

Jill paused in her judgment and glanced at him. She stopped thinking about him as a jackass and started really listening. "After Raccoon, Claire was the only real friend I had. She was always there for a late night phone call or a friendly cup of coffee. She never judged or asked too many questions. She just listened and offered advice. She met me for coffee and heard my whole sordid story about Spain. She offered sympathy about me being infected. She came with memories of that goddamn city where we both survived. She was my gateway to Sherry and spending time with the girl we'd both help liberate."

Jill turned a little toward him as he kept on talking, "She smelled like apples and sunshine. She was the only person in the world who called on my birthday or cared when I was sick. She showed up at my mother's funeral when I didn't even ask..."

He sighed and blew out a puff of smoke, "I walked her back to her hotel room that day and just...I knew I could fuck her. I knew she wanted it. I knew she was into me. So I kissed her and took her to bed. It made me feel good. I felt incredible, ya know? Here I was at the top of my goddamn game and I could fuck any girl I wanted and do anything and get away with it."

Jill saw the regret all over him. She felt the strangest urge to touch his hand as he confessed, "The next morning, she started talking about spending the day together. She gushed about how she'd been waiting so long for this. I kept seeing myself on her as she spoke. I kept thinking about Ada...and me being stupid enough to think the same things...and Claire took my hand and told me she loved me."

He went quiet and Jill finally prompted, "...did you love her?"

He smiled at her sadly, "No. Not like that. I didn't even think about her in that moment. It was all about me. I was stifled by that kind of thing. I was just there to get my rocks off. I told her something stupid like...this was just us letting off steam. It was just fun. Why did she have to ruin it with feelings? I used her...the way Ada used me...to make myself feel better for being so stupid. I hurt her...because I was too stupid to realize what she was to me."

Jill murmured, "...family."

He nodded, sweeping his gaze over her face, "...yeah. Family. She handled it like a goddamn champ. She didn't hurt me back. She was kind. We said goodbye...she didn't call me on my birthday. She didn't write me letters anymore. Sherry stopped calling me too. I didn't know what I was losing until it was gone...just like that...I was alone again."

Jill almost touched his knee, caught herself, and shifted away, "What made you realize it?"

He cleared his throat, "I was on a mission...this lab in Utah...we unearthed this entire testing ground filled with B.O.W.S...but not the kind that should ever exist. It was kids...all kids...all in various states of mutation."

Jill felt the horror seize around her throat. He nodded at the look on her face, "Yeah. Some were still aware. Some were..." He took a hard breath, "...some were crying. I had to make a choice that day that..."

He stopped. Jill finally laid her hand on his knee in sympathy, "...you gave them peace."

He gave her the most haunted look she'd ever seen on another person. His voice was gruff as he intoned, "I _had_ to."

She nodded. She nodded again. Her gaze darted over his pleading expression. After a moment, she told him, "...I know. I would have done the same."

"...you feel righteous when you stare down the barrel of a gun at a monster and blow them away. You know you're saving people. You know you're sparring lives...but looking at a child who doesn't understand what they've become...watching their face while you end their lives..." He closed his eyes, opened them, and they were glassy as he focused on the children playing again, "... there are no words for it."

Jill shifted her hand from his knee to his arm. She squeezed it gently until he turned his face to her and she told him, "...you thought of Sherry?"

He nodded. "I did. I tried-I called. After that...I called Sherry...but she avoided my call. I knew then...no one cared anymore what was haunting me. No one was going to listen...so I started drinking."

Jill removed her hand from him and nodded, "I don't drink...I want to remember. I forget if I drink...I don't deserve to forget."

He glanced over at her, "I'd pay money to forget."

Jill shook her head, "...why not just go find her and apologize?"

He sighed again, "...I knew she'd forgive me. I knew she'd look at me again and forgive everything. I didn't want the forgiveness. I didn't deserve that."

Jill nodded with some kind of soul-deep understanding, "It's easier sometimes to just live in shame than try to find forgiveness."

Leon felt a twinge of empathy that had him offering her a smoke. She took one. They smoked and watched the children until she murmured, "...I forgive you."

He jerked a little, "...what?"

She turned her head toward him, "I forgive you. Someone has to. Those children...someone has to forgive you for it. I'd have done the same."

She nodded at his pained expression and assuaged, "Yeah...I'd have done the same. It was the right thing to do. As for Claire? I think maybe you need to make amends."

He shifted on the bench. His heart hurt in a good way. It was the first time he'd unburdened his soul to anyone. It was strange to know it was easier somehow to do it to a relative stranger than someone he knew. What was it about her that made him aware she'd get it?

"Maybe someday." He sighed a little, "We all have demons, right?"

She touched a hand to her chest without realizing it. "...some are worse than others."

He smiled a little as a whoop of laughter lit the air from the children, "Maybe you'd like to tell me about yours."

She shook her head and rose from the bench. "Not today."

She didn't say not ever. She said - not today. He wondered if she knew how much that said without saying it. "So maybe I'll see you again sometime. Monday is band practice."

She tilted her head at him. He encouraged, "Everybody loves music, right?"

Jill wondered, "You play anything?"

"Guitar. Piano. I dabble in the skin flute when it suits me."

She felt her mouth twitch. He smiled at her, "It's ok to laugh, Jill."

"...I don't think I know how anymore."

He sighed a little, "I think we could both relearn that skill."

She paused before she left and told him, "...maybe I'll come back Monday...and we can talk about music."

She turned and started off toward the far side of the street. Leon watched her go, heaving out a sigh. Maybe Monday, she'd talk about herself instead. He couldn't even begin to realize that not talking about herself was the thing she loved most about the bench. For a few moments, she only lived vicariously through Leon Kennedy. She didn't dwell on her own sadness. She didn't think about her own mistakes. She got to listen to his and feel.

She'd forgotten that feeling didn't have to hurt.

He'd forgotten talking helped it hurt a little less.

She'd touched him somehow and unfrozen him. It was their own game of freeze tag. He'd tagged her now, she was it, it was up to her how long she wanted to play the game.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Bench**

* * *

_**"I woke up a shadow of who I'd been...and he...he got all the glory. I died...and he became a hero."** _

* * *

**Outside St. Agatha's Home for Lost Souls**

* * *

Monday brought with a reunion of two people who'd grown up in the light and love of good music. She found him sitting on that bench with a scuffed up Gibson propped up adjacent to where he sat. She gained the seat beside him and had him remarking, without looking up, "...eventually you name them."

Curious, she glanced from him to the children in the play yard of the group home with various instruments. They sat in a circle while the Sister in charge of their jam session lead them in a merry chorus of _When The Saints Go Marching In._ One little girl was blowing hard into a flute as she stumbled through the notes.

Leon mused, "That's Sara. She reminds me of a girl I knew in primary school that always had a song about life."

Jill tilted her head, "And the boy beside her?"

"Ah...Rico." The little boy had cool caramel skin and big dark eyes. He played in his own world of music on the tambourine he was holding, "Rico got picked on quite a bit in the beginning, but Sara set them straight. Now they play with Ninja Turtles after band every Monday."

Jill pursed her lips. She felt something like a smile creep onto her mouth as she returned, "You've named every one of them, haven't you?"

Leon stubbed out the cigarette he was smoking. "I have. You'll do it too. It feels more natural that way."

It felt more natural to name a bunch of orphans. She felt a shimmer of emotion at the truth of that single statement. He'd given them all names. She studied them as they played. Quietly, she informed him, "...that one in the back? The one who never speaks? She's Jill."

He wanted to hold her hand. The impulse had him reaching over to lay a hand across where her's were folded in her lap. She'd named the loneliest little girl on the playground after her. A sweet child, she barely spoke and never interacted with other children.

He felt her start to stiffen and rushed into the silence to stop her retreat.

With an amused tone, he remarked, "The one climbing up the slide instead of paying attention to class?"

Jill felt her mouth twitch, "The one who climbed the tree the other day and nearly got himself killed?"

"Hmm...he's Leon."

Her hands relaxed under his. She let him curl his fingers over the back of hers and hold them. She even seemed to tease him a little when she cheekily replied, "Leon...he's not the smartest kid in that pack."

"Ah...he's brave...but he needs to check that impulse for adventure."

She felt the strangest urge to laugh. Her gaze tracked from child to child as she picked apart each one in detail. She'd grown so used to staring at them that she immediately noticed the change in their attire.

Jill narrowed her gaze at the children before she remarked, "They have new shoes."

He said nothing. She glanced over at him and back at the children. "Friday they all had raggedy looking shoes. Today? Brand new. Someone bought them all shoes."

Leon shrugged a little, "Anonymous donation. It happens."

Jill kept on looking at him until he met her eyes. Defiant, he tilted his head, "What?"

Her hand rolled over to grip his a little. He'd never admit it but they both knew it was him. She shook her head with a twitch of her lips. He tilted his head at her expression, "What?" Not combative now, his tone was more curious.

She shook her head and gestured at his guitar. "She's a little rough looking, isn't she?"

He smiled now and it had real emotion behind it. "She is. I've had her since Raccoon. Probably the only thing I've managed to hang onto all these years."

Jill blew out a breath. She felt a stir in her belly for a man that bought shoes for homeless kids and kept an old Gibson like a prized possession. She leaned back on the bench as she told him, "I went back to my apartment when I was trying to escape Raccoon just to get a notebook with all my songs in it."

He didn't look at her. He felt a shift in their friendship at the confession. He knew it was a big step for her to admit anything about herself before the present. "Hmm. You still write?"

She shrugged, "...not in years."

"Still have the notebook?"

She shrugged again, "...somewhere I think. I don't know."

She had it. He'd bet money on it. She was an odd creature. She told him about the notebook and was now embarrassed by it. He wondered if she'd meant to confess anything real to him or if it had just slipped out.

To his surprised, she wondered, "...how..." She trailed off, "...nevermind."

"...no. It's ok. How what?"

"...how did you survive...Raccoon? Were you with Claire the whole time?"

Leon cleared his throat. They were still holding hands so casually. He wondered if she was aware of it. He doubted it. "Nope. We spent...maybe fifteen minutes together most of the night. At one point we got separated and then found each other for a handful of minutes outside of the R.P.D. Claire...wasn't interested in really being together too much. She rebuked me when I offered to stick with her for protection. She was hell-bent on finding Chris."

There was an edge to his voice that had Jill asking, "You don't like Chris?"

A short sound like a scoff left his mouth as he returned, "He's ok. A little uptight, pretty self-serving, and mostly full of himself...but he's ok. Why?"

"You sounded bitter."

Jesus. He didn't like how perceptive she was. No. That wasn't true. He liked it. He just didn't like how _right_ she was. "Maybe a little bit. After it was all said and done, Claire left Sherry with me to keep searching for him. Maybe I'm a little butt sore about it all these years later."

Jill nodded, "Chris tends to bring out the resentment in people."

Oh. Curious. She was about to tell him something significant, he was pretty sure of that. Trying to gently guide her to it, Leon told her, "He seems ok. Arrogant? You bet...but he loves Claire."

Jill sighed. "He does. Above all else. He'll never let her down...and he's her golden boy. She's devoted to him. Hell...everyone is. He's bulletproof."

Leon kept on strumming and let his spidey senses tingle with the knowledge he was about to acquire. "Hmm. You don't feel the same?"

She shifted on the bench. The blonde tail of her hair skimmed over the soft lilac jacket she wore. "He gets all the glory. He's the face of the fight. He's the golden god of the B.S.A.A...we started the goddamn thing together...but he gets all the credit."

He studied her profile as he queried, "Hate that, do you?"

"...it's bullshit. I died..." She blew out a hard breath of resentment, "I _died_ for him...and he just...went on to get all the goddamn fame."

A nerve. A good one. They'd finally touched on something real here. "Even in Raccoon...even there...he got the attention. In S.T.A.R.S. he was Wesker's favorite...and he was so _lazy._ He half-assed reports. He didn't follow through. He was insubordinate and often late. I was a model employee...Chris did whatever the hell he wanted and his shit was still gold."

She gruffed, "I stayed behind while he fled to Europe. I kept trying to help. He didn't even wait for me...he didn't even bother. I spent almost nine months after that trying to find him."

Leon lit a cigarette as he cajoled, "Rough."

"...right." She scoffed, "Rough. That's the word for it. I got infected in that goddamn city and he just...walked away."

"...Redfield's have a tendency to do that."

She turned her whole body toward him on the bench. She took the cigarette he was smoking and inhaled, hard. Her anger was ripe and rich in the cold air. "What's worse? When I went "missing" on the Queen Zenobia? Everyone spent the whole time talking about what a goddamn hero he was for saving me. I didn't need saved! I wasn't trapped or drowning. I wasn't in need of a hero. You think anyone cared? It was just another moment when he was the golden boy. He rebuked orders once to "save me." He fought a million bad guys to do it again. It's his thing...I go missing and he just...swoops in to save the day." The bitterness was thick enough to walk on. "Where was he when I really needed him? Where was he when I was up against a monster I couldn't stop? It wanted S.T.A.R.S...where was he then?"

She laid her hand over his on her knee. "You think he ever wondered where I was then? You think he asked about Brad or how I'd survived? You think anyone did? Of course, not...he was too busy running to Claire's rescue on Rockfort...walked out a hero again there, didn't he? Why I rotted in a miserable hovel in Germany dealing with a fever and enough nightmares to last a lifetime."

Leon let her pluck at his fingers as he reached his other hand over to cover their growing pile of them. He soothed as quietly as he could. "I read about Nemesis. Scary shit. How'd you survive it?"

"Luck." She made a sound like a self-deprecating laugh, "Rotten luck. If I'd died in that city, maybe I wouldn't-"

And there she just stopped. She glanced at him in horror. He felt a roll of sympathy as he invited quietly, "It's ok. I get it. You wouldn't be here, now, and suffering. You blame Chris for it?"

She drew her hands away and he retreated back to his seat. It was ok. They'd made some real progress here. She shook her head, "I blame myself. It's not his fault he's perfect."

Interesting. She really thought Redfield was above reproach. Turning the subject, he told her, "There was this big son of a bitch that chased me around the R.P.D. I called him Mr. X because it seemed like a good name for the stalker from hell."

Jill caught his gaze. "Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah. I've never been so scared in my entire life. He wouldn't stop. I blinded him. I got my ass kicked and thrown around like a rag doll. I had a fractured collarbone and two fractured ribs when it was over...and a gun shot wound that was heavily infected."

"...it shot you?"

"...no...that was..." He didn't want to talk about Ada with her. Not yet. Maybe next time? Maybe not. Maybe he'd tell her about Clark and the collar next time. Or maybe it was too soon for that much honesty. Either way, he was trying here. So he explained, "...something else entirely...but Mr. X was relentless...I had nightmares about him for months after it was all over."

Jill's hand hovered her chest without thinking. It flittered over the old scar at her shoulder where he'd punctured her. She pictured the Nemesis coming for her as she lay upside down in that car after trying to take her down. Years later and the fear still ate around her throat in a painful way.

She cleared it now and told him, "I know the feeling. Part of me was relieved when he finally attempted to kill me. I thought...at least it's over."

Leon opened two buttons on his shirt, surprising her as he spread it to show a scar at the top of his sternum. "...I know that feeling too. This is one of the scars left behind from that goddamn laser that didn't even get the whole plagas. Sometimes I see them in the mirror and I can still feel it."

He waited patiently to let her examine the old wound. She knew he was inviting her to touch it if she wanted. When was the last time anyone offered to share their wounds with her? When was the last time she'd had a conversation like this with anyone in her life? They had so much in common. Talking to him literally made her feel better. Jill hesitated, trusted her instinct, and touched the scar as she queried quietly, "...does it ache?"

"...all the time." He sighed when she drew her hand back, "Yours?"

She blinked. She shook her head. She turned her gaze back to the kids. "...it's phantom pain. It's not real. I know that."

He tilted his head at her. "What makes it phantom? Do you feel it?"

She nodded a little.

"Do you remember it?"

She nodded again.

"Then it's not fake. It's real. Just because the body healed, doesn't mean the pain went away."

"..I watched it kill Brad Vickers. I close my eyes sometimes and I can still see him piss himself in fear before it murdered him. I...just stood there. I just stood like a coward...I just..."

"...it's not your fault."

She laughed with old pain. She rubbed her face angrily, "I ran for my life and left him to die shitting himself. I stayed behind to help...and I helped no one. I failed. I keep failing. Every time I blink, I know I haven't helped a goddamn soul."

He squeezed her hands where they rested in her lap. She had the strangest impulse to ask for a hug. She glanced at him as he admonished, "You never stopped fighting. You never gave up. You just kept trying. It matters, Jill. Every single time you battled back, it matters. You're a hero."

She shook her head angrily, "No. That's Chris. Me? I'm a ghost." She felt tears prick her eyes. She shook her head again, denying the emotion behind it. She rose. "I gotta go."

"Already?"

Jill started away and he called after her, "Still running, huh?"

She paused. She inhaled sharply. She kept on walking and told him. "Never really stopped."

He watched her go. His gaze turned back to the kids. He watched them play happily. He wondered if he'd ever feel the purity of that innocence ever again. He got flashes of it sometimes as he watching them. He remembered being young and happy. He thought it might be possible to find it again.

Until then, he'd keep sitting on this bench and trying to find the right notes.

* * *

A week went by and she didn't see him again. She started to wonder if she'd driven him away. Then on a Wednesday, while the children in the yard were absent because of the rain, he joined her on the wet bench wearing a leather jacket in black with his hair slicked back from his tired face.

She didn't like knowing she'd missed his company. Still, it didn't stop her from encouraging him to talk. "Work?"

He sighed, "There was an outbreak in a small town. Clean up was mostly sterilization."

Jill glanced over in the dreary light. "Termination?"

"...nearly entirely. Three survivors. Two girls and a boy...all about ten years old."

Jill nodded a little. She shifted to look at him in the cool morning air. "You look tired."

"Exhausted." He smiled at her a little sadly, "But here I am. Too bad it's raining, huh?"

"...what happened to the kids?"

Leon leaned his head back and shut his eyes as he answered. "Foster homes. They'll be ok. The parents were...it was too late for them. They opted out before I got there. I had to put the dad down to save the kids."

Jill returned softly, "You ok?"

He rolled his neck to look at her. "...not really. I'm working on it. How are you?"

She shook her head. "Tell me."

Keeping the focus on him was the smart move. She liked listening to him. She didn't think about herself when he talked. So, she listened as he did so. He told her about a town barely bigger than three stoplights. He talked about houses filled with infected. He talked about burning buildings and the team he led to sanitize the area. She heard the pain in his voice as he talked. The rain was soft on his tired face.

To his surprise, she told him, "I lost a bus of survivors I'd been trying to free from the city in Raccoon. They picked up the wrong person who turned and cost them all their lives. I nearly...I was...I nearly gave up. I almost couldn't get back up. I cried so hard...if it wasn't for Carlos...I don't think I'd have made it."

"Carlos?"

So, she told him about Carlos. A guy working for the wrong side who'd really stepped up for the right one. He'd saved her life. He'd helped her escape. They'd parted ways as friends on a boat leaving the country.

"...Chris never asked me how I survived."

Leon arched his brows.

"Yeah," She laughed without humor, "Yeah. He never asked about Carlos. You're the first person I've ever told about him. I didn't want anyone to go looking for him. I thought...one of us deserved freedom."

Leon nodded. He thought about Ada. He'd never told anyone about Ada in Raccoon. Not exactly. Not completely. He'd mentioned a survivor who'd died because he'd failed to save her. He'd told about losing the sample...but he'd never talked about Ada like she was a person that night. In every report, she was just a memory.

Returning the honesty, he finally told the truth. Jill listened. She didn't judge. She didn't ask questions. She let him talk. He appreciated that about her. She never interrupted. She didn't offer platitudes or ire. She nodded occasionally.

"...and she kissed me."

Jill's brows shot up and he scoffed, "Yeah. I know. I knew it was just to shut me up. I knew it was her just getting what she wanted. I liked her...so I let it happen. Even when she fell...even then...I knew what she was."

Jill tilted her head, "Yet you worked with her again in Spain."

"...not exactly. She manipulated me there too." He was bitter about it. It was written all over his face. Curious, Jill prodded, "Yet you slept with her."

Again, no judgment, just curiosity. She really wanted to know. He nodded, "I liked her. I wanted to believe she liked me too. I wanted to prove I was smarter and better than the boy she'd betrayed in that damn city."

He snorted a little, "Listen to me...pathetic."

She touched his arm. He turned his gaze. She told him, "No. I went through a window once. _That's_ pathetic."

Leon shook his head. "I always thought there was more to that story. More than partners."

"...Chris and I were best friends...but never more than that." She let go of his arm, "We can't help sometimes who we love. You trusted someone who used you. There's nothing wrong with that. It's not pathetic...it's human."

They sat quietly for so long she was afraid they'd never speak again. Finally, he confessed, "I'm hungry...what do you say we get something to eat?"

She should leave. They'd shared enough for a lifetime. She didn't want to get used to having him around. Instead, she followed him to the little cart down the street and they bought some coffee. They stood in the drizzle and drank together.

After a while, she wondered, "Do you ever wish you could just be a normal guy?"

"...every day." He smiled sadly, "But this is it for me. It's who I am."

"...it's not who you are...it's what you do. There's a big difference."

"What about you? You could retire. You could get out now. What's keeping you in?"

Jill sighed a little. "I swore I'd never stop until every last person responsible paid for what they'd done."

"...until the T-Virus is scrubbed from the face of the Earth."

They held gazes. Apparently, it was that simple - they were two noble people looking to honor personal vows they'd made long before the world had robbed them of nearly all the hope they'd ever fostered. He really believed in what he did. Jill? She believed she could make a difference. She could change something...if they'd just let her back in the fight.

She told him, "...you think those kids need umbrellas for days like this?"

He smiled a little. "Umbrellas...should protect you, right? Should stop the rain and leave you dry and safe...instead...every time I hear that word I cringe."

Jill tossed her coffee in the trashcan beside the cart. "At least you can still do something about it. I'm a glorified paper pusher."

He shrugged gently. "Maybe you just need to find another way to protect people. Maybe you need to put your foot up Redfield's ass and get him to let you back in the fight."

She sighed. "You ever met the man? It's like punching a boulder and trying to get it to move."

His mouth twitched, "I've heard it can be done."

She shook her head. "He'd find a way to make it all about him." She started toward where she'd parked her car, "I'll see ya around."

He waited until she was almost too far and called after her. "When?"

Surprised, she tilted her head at him. "What happens on the weekends over there?"

"...foster families show up to see if there's anyone worth adopting."

She glanced at the empty play yard. "...so maybe I come back Saturday and we see if anyone finds a new future."

Maybe she'd come back on Saturday and start to find her own. Her hand hovered over her scars. They ached sometimes in the rain. She wondered how much was phantom pain and how much was regret.

He called back. "I might be running out of stories to tell you."

She shook her head. "I think you're gonna find out you've got plenty."

"Maybe you'll tell me one and make it worth sharing that bench."

She felt her mouth twitch. "Maybe. Or maybe it's just a place to sit."

It was just a bench. It was just a place where two sad people sat together and shared their truths. She wasn't sure why, but something about being on that bench felt more like living than she'd done in a long time. She liked listening to his tales. She liked knowing she wasn't alone.

The truth wasn't just opening your mouth and speaking. It came with trust. She was slowly building some in him. She wondered if he knew what it cost to trust someone else when she'd spent so long with nothing to even begin to believe in.

He couldn't know. She'd never really told him about her time with Wesker. She'd never told him about her time in S.T.A.R.S. He'd done all the talking while she'd simply existed in his world like a fly on the wall.

What was she getting from these visits? It was just two people talking. It was silly to put so much stock in her time with him. It wasn't changing anything. Was it?

She didn't know. She wasn't sure of anything really. She hadn't been in a long time.

All she knew for sure? She'd keep coming back to that bench to find out.


End file.
